The One
by Mindy35
Summary: CASKETT. Missing scenes and post-ep for "Significant Others". What prompted Meredith's change of heart and how would Castle react to Beckett wanting to know him better?
1. Chapter 1

Title: The One

Author: mindy35

Rating: K+/T, some incidental sexy stuff in part 2.

Disclaimer: Not my characters, no money made. All are property of AWM, ABC et al.

Spoilers: Basic stuff, thru to "Significant Others".

Pairing: Castle/Beckett, Castle/Meredith.

Summary: Missing scenes & post-ep for "Significant Others". What instigated Meredith's change of heart and how would Castle react to Beckett trying to know him better?

A/N: As stated above, this story is part missing scene and part post-ep and part what I wish had happened. The first part happens during the episode, the second part happens after the episode. And while I am aware that it doesn't quite gel with the ep itself, I also don't care. Cos it addresses two issues I had with it – one, what motivated Meredith's seemingly out-of-nowhere change of heart, why did she go from manipulating Beckett to befriending her and confiding in her? And two, I'm not sure I buy the whole Castle-doesn't-or-wouldn't-share-with-Beckett ending. So here is my take on both. This fic also gives me the opportunity to hear from Alexis which I was hoping for earlier in the season as well as giving Castle an opportunity to stand up for his relationship which sometimes I just want him to man up and do. Please enjoy and let me know your thoughts.

A/N2: Also this is my 30th fic for "Castle". Just thought I'd share that little milestone.

I.

The elevator doors parted and both redheads performed a perfectly executed if not entirely sincere smile right on cue.

"Ah, Meredith..." Martha ran her eyes over her former daughter-in-law, taking in the string shopping bag that hung from her arm. "Been shopping?"

"Just a few things for Alexis," Meredith replied before reaching into the bag and pulling out a crisp white apron. "And a little something for me…" She held it up against herself, showing Martha the large lipstick-like kiss on its chest, accompanied by the words _Kiss the Cook_. "Isn't it adorable?"

Martha emitted a mirthless laugh. "Might I ask a very honest question?"

Meredith tucked the apron away. "Of course, Martha. We are family, after all."

"Ye-es…" Martha stepped off the elevator and faced her, leather gloves in hand. "What on earth do you think you're doing here?"

Meredith lifted the bag of overpriced organic vegetables. "Making soup."

Martha opened her mouth on an admonishment. "Meredith Moore—"

"Castle," she interrupted smoothly. "I'm thinking of returning to my married name." She gave a coy one-shouldered shrug. "More marketable. You understand."

Martha pursed her lips and continued on with her brewing speech. "Well, whatever the name, you have never made soup in your life without an ulterior motive attached and I know what it is." She waved her bright pink gloves, gave her a narrow-eyed onceover. "You may fool Richard with this whole doting mother routine but it will take more than a few bats of those botox-enhanced eyes of yours to fool this old broad. I know exactly what you're up to and take it from me, when it comes to Kate Beckett, you are completely out of your depth."

"I'm sure I don't know what you mean," Meredith replied, doing her best to play innocent.

"Oh yes, you do," the older woman muttered, a knowing lilt to her tone. "And if you had any sense at all you'd see that she's not some bimbo you can scare off with your I-gave-him-everything-and-he-gave-me-nothing sob story. She's a police detective and a damn intelligent woman. She'll see through your line of BS before you've even finished delivering it. And she won't give him up without a hell of a fight. Trust me—" her voice lowered as she began shoving her hands into her gloves, "those two have walked through hell together. Your flighty little two and a half year marriage barely compares. So," Martha drew herself up to her full height, tossing back her flame-colored curls, "why don't you do us _all _a favor and quit while you're behind? I'd hate to see you make more of a fool of yourself than you already have."

Never one to ruin a good exit line by saying any more than required, Martha headed for the door, chin tipped heavenward. Meredith pressed the button to recall the elevator and gave a dramatic sigh.

"Oh Martha, whatever happened to us? We used to be such _good_ friends."

Drawing a pair of Jackie O sunglasses from her purse, Martha turned towards her with a deliberately disdainful air. "You broke my boy's heart and deserted his daughter. Call me old-fashioned, but those are two things I find difficult to overlook." She flicked her eyes at the vegetables in Meredith's bag, including a few dark purple mounds. "By the way, Alexis hates beets." And with that, Martha donned her dark glasses and sailed out onto the breezy New York street.

-x-

Pulling herself upright in bed, Alexis eyed her mother as she plumped the pillows behind her. "Mom…? Are you sure it's a good idea, you being here?"

"Of course," Meredith answered perkily, placing the tray she'd prepared on her lap and tucking the napkin into her pyjama collar. "Someone has to take care of you. And with your grandmother immersed in her "Temptation Lane" reunion show and your father _all wrapped up_ in his new relationship, who better than your own mother to feed you soup and watch over you while you recover?"

Alexis drew back as she settled on the bed then offered her a spoonful. "I can feed myself, mom."

Her mother just smiled and scolded her in the same sing-song voice she'd used since she was two years old. "Uh-uh-uh. Open u-up…"

"And anyway, it's just mono," she went on, rolling her eyes but relenting and taking the soup-laden spoon into her mouth. "All I need is rest. And to not have to worry about you torturing dad."

Meredith's eyes dropped to the bowl as she scooped up another spoonful. "Well, I won't deny that torturing your father is one of my favorite pastimes but that's not why I'm here now. I'm here _for you_." There was an infinitesimal pause before she added, "And I'm very happy that Richard has found someone special."

Alexis' blue blues blinked at her. "Are you really?"

Meredith gave a fleeting pout then shovelled the spoonful into her daughter's mouth. "Are you? Do you like Detective Beckett?"

Alexis swallowed, nodded and lowered her eyes, her fingers worrying the hem of her napkin. "I do."

"Oh, pumpkin…" Meredith lay the spoon down and put two fingers under her chin, tilting it upwards. "You don't have to lie. And you know I can always tell when you're fibbing because you get that little frowny look that you inherited from your father. If you don't like this new girlfriend of his, you can tell me. Maybe I can talk to him about your concerns?"

"No! Mom—" Alexis' eyes lifted, widening in horror, one hand reaching out and grasping her sleeve. "Look…I admit…I wasn't totally okay with the idea of them…when things started getting…you know, serious. But not because I don't like her – I do. She's actually pretty amazing."

Meredith rose from the bed, turning and making her way around it. "Is she really?"

"Yeah," Alexis smiled as she took up the glass of orange juice from her bedside and began sipping it. "I volunteered at the precinct a few years back and a couple of times I asked her advice and she was so nice and smart and…—it's just that I worry about him, you know? I worry about the lengths he'll go to just to be with her. I mean, she's trained for that job but he's not and let's face it, dad is about as fierce as a French poodle. Also, I…I guess I worry that maybe she won't love him like he deserves, as much as he loves her. I couldn't stand seeing that happen again…" She gave a little humph, frowning into the glass. "Which is kind of funny cos I used to worry about him _not _getting serious with anyone – now I worry about him getting _so_ serious with someone."

Meredith nodded a few times then, locating a pile of clean laundry, she began refolding the perfectly folded sweater on top. "So you really think he's serious about this one. You think he loves her?"

"I know he does," Alexis said softly. "And I want him to be happy. He deserves that. And Beckett does make him happy – I've never seen him as happy as he's been these last few months." She shook her head, gave a shrug. "And it's good that he has someone, now that I'm gone."

"But sweetheart, perhaps you're right to be concerned." Finishing with the sweater, Meredith stepped closer, waving a hand as she stood at the foot of the bed. "I mean about them spending _so much time_ together for her work. While _his work_—"

"I…didn't say—"

"Because we both saw what a mess blending the personal and the professional made of your father's marriage to the blonde one."

"Her name's Gina, mom, and she and dad tried really hard to make their marriage work."

"Of course they did." Her mother moved back to the bed and took a seat, patting her hand. "I just don't want _you_ to go through that again. Getting a new mother only to have her yanked away again after a few short years."

Alexis reached for her hand but found it already retracted. She sighed but smiled. "You're my mom – no one else. Okay?"

Meredith returned her smile and reached out to rearrange her bed-tousled hair.

"And I'm not a kid anymore. Dad spent eighteen years making me the center of his life. I want this for him now." Alexis captured her fussing hand and lowered it, attempting to pin her mother's inattentive gaze. "So _promise me_ you won't meddle."

"Eat," she replied, nodding at the bowl of cooling soup.

Alexis stubbornly held her mother's eye. "Promise and I'll eat."

"Alright, I promise!" Meredith smiled, throwing her hands up in mock surrender. She spooned some soup and raised it to her daughter's mouth. "Now eat."

Alexis obeyed, eating and swallowing then dabbing her lips with her napkin.

"How is it?" Meredith asked eagerly.

"It's…" Alexis nodded a few times, took a sip of juice, "mm, good."

Her mother's eyes narrowed. "You're making the frowny face again."

"No, I'm not," she protested, stealing the spoon and taking another generous taste. "It's really, really yummy. Way better than Paris cuisine. _Merci, maman._"

Meredith beamed and didn't take her eyes off her daughter until she finished the whole bowl. Except for the beets. Which she'd forgotten to omit. But next time, she'd remember.

-x-

Looking up from the blinking cursor that had been mocking him for nearly an hour, Castle saw his pale-skinned, red-headed ex-wife standing in the doorway of his office, spot-lit by an errant moonbeam. She was leaning against the doorjamb, wearing a plain white t-shirt with no bra, little polka-dotted shorts and pink ankle socks. On her face was a sly half-smile and cupped in her hands was the mug Kate usually used to bring him his morning coffee.

"Well, ain't this just like old times?" she murmured, the other corner of her mouth curling upwards. "To see you sitting there…" Meredith ran her eyes over him as he sat at his desk in just his boxers, "it's like no time at all has passed." She started towards him, padding across his office as if their midnight meeting was pre-arranged and neither of them wanted it disturbed by their fellow housemates. "I made you a coffee," she whispered, setting the mug down on the desktop. "With nutmeg, of course."

"Thanks," Castle grumbled, tapping at the backspace button a few times. "But I'm not sure I like nutmeg in my coffee anymore."

"Oh?" Meredith straightened, her smile faltering just slightly. "You prefer Beckett's coffee? She's certainly makes a strong cup."

"Yeah, I know. Her coffee sucks," he muttered, his voice stripped of its usual verve. "She's never made a decent pot in her life. It's strong and bitter and I'll consider myself the luckiest man on earth if I get to drink it every morning for the rest of my life."

Meredith gave a muted hum before heading to the window to take in the gleaming city. "Sounds like you're serious about this one."

"She's not "this one"," Castle stated, swivelling in his chair to face her. "She's _the_ one."

Meredith turned, hands behind her back and head cocked to one side. "And what does that make me?"

He regarded her a moment then answered in a softer tone, "The mother of my child."

"Nothing more?" she asked, meandering back towards him.

"Never anything more," he replied, rubbing his tired eyes with two fingers before meeting her gaze again. "Not so long as I have even the slightest chance with her."

Meredith came to a stop at the edge of his desk, she ran a fingertip along its rim, sidling so close that her bare leg grazed his. "If you feel so certain about that," she murmured, standing just inside the open v of his legs, "then why are you in here staring at a blank computer screen instead of in there dreaming in the arms of your darling detective?"

Castle's jaw tightened, his eyes broke with hers. Scooting back in his chair, he gave a decisive nod and rose to his feet. "You're right. I'm going to bed." He leaned down to close off his computer, instructing the persistent cursor to give up its cause. "Where," he continued, face bathed in the harsh light of the screen, "I will wrap my arms around my darling detective and never let her go." He shut the laptop lid and headed for bed but turned on the threshold, adding in a low, resolute voice, "And in the morning, you are going to make this all right. Whatever you have said or insinuated, you are going to uninsinuate it. Whatever you may have done to make Kate doubt us, you're going to undo it. Because I will forgive you many things, Meredith, but I won't forgive you screwing this up." He gave another nod, "So make it right. You owe me that much." Then Castle turned to re-join his sleeping love.

Meredith took a step after him. "Richard?"

Castle faced her, every pore of him oozing reluctance.

Her lips twitched in a sad attempt at a smile. "Sleep well."

His smile was just as unconvincing, his voice just as tight. "Night."

Then he disappeared into the darkness of his bedroom. She heard him treading lightly, lifting the covers. She heard the weight of his body as it settled alongside another body. She heard a soft sigh and the shifting of limbs and the swish of skin smoothing over skin. Followed by the delicate pluck of a kiss and his voice whispering for her to go back to sleep.

Snatching up the coffee from his desk, Meredith headed back into the kitchen where she dumped it down the drain. She stood for a moment, grasping the counter with one hand and twirling her hair with the other. Her little visit was not going to plan. She hated when that happened. It was true that she felt slightly miffed at the prospect of losing Richard Castle as her semi-regular East Coast booty call. Not that there had been any booty calls of late. That alone should have tipped her off earlier to the fact that something major had changed. She didn't like feeling that the power she'd wielded over this particular man for so long had been slowly slipping into the hands of someone else while she wasn't paying attention.

More than that though, even after over a decade of divorce, Meredith still felt oddly protective of the bumbling idiot that was her ex-husband. Probably because for some time he'd been _her_ bumbling idiot. It had been her job to prevent his bumbling or look after him when he bumbled too far. Apparently she wasn't the only female whose protective instincts were aroused by Rick Castle's cluelessness though. And so it appeared that the only thing for her to do now was change tactics. If she couldn't beat 'em then she'd just have to join the We Love Beckett brigade and find out exactly what all the fuss was about.

Meredith headed for the stairs, already devising and relishing her new plan of attack. Dinner with Kate Beckett, Castle family favorite and Muse Extraordinaire, would kill several birds with one stone. It would amuse her while Alexis slept. It would give her the opportunity to determine whether her bumbling idiot was in safe hands. And best of all, it would freak her former spouse out no end wondering exactly what they were sharing in his absence. After all, there was absolutely no reason she couldn't set things right with Beckett and still torture Richard.

Just a little.

For old time's sake.

It was an ex's privilege.

_TBC..._


	2. Chapter 2

Title: The One

Author: mindy35

Rating: T, some incidental sexy stuff.

Disclaimer: Not my characters, no money made. All are property of AWM, ABC et al.

Spoilers: Basic stuff, thru to "Significant Others".

Pairing: Castle/Beckett, Castle/Meredith.

Summary: Missing scenes & post-ep for "Significant Others". What instigated Meredith's change of heart and how would Castle react to Beckett trying to know him better?

A/N: Just to be clear, this part now occurs after the events of the episode. It is loosely linked with part one, though it's not completely necessary to have read the first half. Thanks to all who have read and responded so far. :)

II.

She'd spent the day doing paperwork. An activity Castle still had no interest in helping out with. But it at least provided her with a little headspace. It gave her the chance to think through the events of the past few days, to think about what Lanie had said, what Meredith had said. And all Castle hadn't said. Beckett knew she was festering. She was still stuck in her endless mull when Castle showed up at her door that evening with a bottle of wine and an off-the-cuff quip.

"I sensed that you missed me," he said before inviting himself inside.

"Spidey senses?" she asked, watching him move through her space in search of glasses.

He found some and turned to her. "They never fail."

Half an hour later, they were ensconced in her couch having polished off most of the bottle along with a small platter of cheese and fruit. She was watching the news on a low volume while Castle lay with his head in her lap, reading Connolly's latest.

"Castle?"

"Mmm?"

Beckett muted the TV and looked down at him, a small frown on her face. She wasn't sure how to ask what she wanted to ask. So she began by asking: "Do you remember a few years ago I asked you why you were so interested in death and you told me some story about finding a dead boy on a beach?"

Castle blinked up at her, displaying one of his vast array of not-sure-whether-to-feel-scared looks. "Yes, but if I recall you already got me back for that stunt."

"Why'd you do that?" she asked quietly, running a few fingers through his hair. "Why didn't you just tell me the truth?"

"It was Halloween. Time to trick or treat. And since I wasn't in the habit of treating you then," he turned his head to plant a super quick kiss on the hand messing with his hair, "I chose to trick you instead. I'd still be tricking you to this day it you hadn't given in to letting me treat you so nicely."

Beckett nodded a few times, gazing at the silent TV. "So you're saying that if I'd asked on any other day you would have given me a straight answer?"

"Probably not," he admitted, closing his book and hugging it to his chest. "Back then I was in the habit of saying anything just to get a reaction from you. Any reaction at all. You're so cute when you're riled up. And I enjoyed unhinging that cool and competent demeanour of yours, it was my reason for getting up each morning." His eyes cut to hers. "Not that I would do that now."

"'Course not," she muttered dryly.

"Anyway," he adjusted his head in her lap, shot her a wry look, "I thought you _liked_ my stories."

"I do," she responded with a smile. "But I also would have liked the truth."

"Well…" Castle sat up, benching his book and facing her on the couch, one arm draped along its back. "Truth was I didn't have a good answer to your question. I'm fascinated with how people can hurt other people, people they love sometimes. But I don't know why exactly."

"So you just made something up?" she asked, brows lifted.

"In my own defence, I didn't have a fascinating origin story like yours to impart. And I wanted you to find me…you know," he squinted into the distance, voice lowering to a pensive rasp, "mysterious…intriguing…alluring."

"And instead you just made me think you evasive and flippant and annoying."

"But in an intriguing kind of way, right?"

"Well, for future reference," she lay her arm over his on the back of the couch, gave his bicep a small squeeze, "I find the truth about you plenty intriguing. That's what I want to hear."

"Then that's what you'll get," he said with a single, sincere nod. "I'll tell you anything you want to know."

"Anything? Really?"

"I am an open book. Ask away."

Beckett regarded him a moment, lips pursed in thought. Then, reaching for her wineglass, she allowed herself to voice questions she'd craved real answers to long before his ex-wife's recent visit. "Why'd you marry Meredith?"

"Alexis," Castle answered immediately. "Well, she wasn't Alexis then, she was just a tiny dot on an ultrasound screen but I knew as soon as I saw it that I wanted to be that dot's dad, that dot was my destiny. I wanted to give it everything, the perfect childhood, the perfect family..."

She tipped her head to one side. "The one you didn't have?"

"Something like that," he nodded after a brief pause.

"So what happened?"

He let out a breath and watched his arm slip out from under hers, fingers beginning to trace the loose weave of her sleeve. "It took me two years to figure out that just because there's a mom and a dad and a kid that doesn't mean things will be picture perfect. It took me another six months to figure out that Meredith was sleeping with her director. From then on it was just me and Alexis. And so began the happiest days of my life." He dipped his head, looked at her from beneath his brows. "Until recently, that is."

"So," Beckett lifted her wineglass, hiding her smile by taking a sip, "how'd you figure out how to be such a great dad?"

"Made it up as I went." Castle shrugged and scratched one sideburn with his fingertip. "I think mostly I got lucky. Alexis taught me most of what I know. And I used to eavesdrop on moms at the park. Especially if they had twins or triplets, you know? I figured they must be doing something right if they all survived."

She swirled the liquid in her glass, watching it form a burgundy spiral. "Have you…ever thought about…becoming a dad again?"

Castle waited until she lifted her head and met his eyes. "Not until recently."

"And…what about marriage?" she asked a moment later, cheeks pink and gaze back on her wine.

He shifted a little closer on the couch, head cocked. "What _about _marriage?"

"Well…" she gave a shrug, waved a vague hand, "after your….experiences, does it…mean less to you, or…"

"Actually," he murmured, slow and contemplative, "I'd say it means more."

Beckett met his gaze, held it. Then she set her glass aside and moved into his lap. "When did you fall in love with me?"

"Everyday," he answered, lying back as she straddled him. "Everyday since the day I met you. A trend that will continue tomorrow and the day after and the day after that and the day after that…" He drew her into a kiss, both hands cupping her face.

Beckett pulled back as the kiss ebbed, hovering over him with a smirk on her face. "And exactly how long have you been waiting to use that line?"

"Oo, a good two months," he mused, head bobbing on her cushion.

"Yet you made it sound so spontaneous."

"The trick is not to over-prepare."

"Mm. Send your acting coach my compliments."

"She'll be so proud her tutelage has finally come in handy."

"No doubt."

"So." Castle drew in a breath, hands smoothing up and down her back. "Is that it for my interrogation, Detective?"

"For now, Mr Castle." She slipped one button free of its hole then lowered her lips to his chest. "But stay available for questioning."

"Perhaps you'd like to cuff me to your bed to make sure I don't leave town?" he offered, breathing heavily beneath her.

She glanced up at him, popped another button. "I would but you enjoy it way too much for it to be considered in any way a deterrent."

He chuckled, hands slipping up under her clothes. "Ah, you know me too well..."

Beckett stalled. "Do I?" And drew back.

Castle sat up, scanning her face intently. "Kate, do you honestly doubt that? After all we've been through? Do you honestly think you don't know the kind of man I am after me inflicting myself on you at every single opportunity I got from the moment I laid eyes on you?"

She shook her head, lips curving upwards. "How did you…?"

"Know exactly what was bothering you?" He smiled and tucked some hair behind her ear. "I've learnt how to read your silences. Just as I've learnt that I can't trust my first ex-wife as far as I can throw her. And believe me I've been tempted to..."

"Uh, Castle…?" she prompted when he became briefly lost in a far-flung fantasy about tossing his ex off the Brooklyn Bridge.

"Right. Well…you've been quiet all evening," he went on once he'd returned to reality and her suspended question. "And I knew Meredith wouldn't be able to resist taking one last parting shot. She did the same thing with Gina, gave her a bad case of cold feet right before the wedding."

"Yet you didn't think to warn me of this?"

"Hey, I've seen you take down mobsters, gangsters, pimps and one very burly Italian wrestler. I've seen you butt heads with some of New York's best and brightest. I figured you could take my ex-wife in all her manipulative glory."

"Well…" she ran a hand down his cheek, "it seems that I have one fatal weakness."

"What's that?"

"You."

Castle grinned and covered her hand with his. "I love when you answer questions like that."

Beckett smiled back but slipped her hand out from under his, dropping it to her lap. "She's not wrong, Castle. You do know that, right? I mean, I may know you but…there's an awful lot I don't know _about _you."

"So what?" Castle gave a shrug of untroubled innocence. "You've got the rest of your life to get to know every little thing about me."

"Oh, so that's your plan?" she muttered, eyeing him with narrow, amused eyes. "String it out over years, huh? Make me crave each little breadcrumb?"

"That's my devious plan," he told her, waggling his brows. "To keep you hungry, keep you always wanting a little more."

"I see…" She gave a slow nod and leaned in to see if she could kiss some more clues from him.

"But," he mumbled through their rapidly intensifying kiss, "I say…mmph, I say you start getting to know me better…tomorrow. Hmm…?"

"Tomorrow then." She eased back on the couch, clasping him close as his arms enfolded her and his body covered her. "I'm gonna hold you to that."

"Hold me to anything you want." Castle lifted a challenging eyebrow and raised one wrist above her head, pinning it to the couch cushions. "But in the meantime, I intend to exploit your weakness for all it's worth."

Beckett smiled up at him, offering her other wrist for capture. "Go right ahead."

-x-

Early the following morning, Castle sat at her dining nook with his nose buried back in his book. Beckett approached, two coffees in hand and an idea on the tip of her tongue.

"I made you coffee."

He looked up, face showing a mixture of surprise and pleasure at the still new gesture. "Thankyou…"

"How is it?" she asked, watching him take a tentative sip.

"Good," he nodded. "Very good."

"Not too strong?"

"No. Perfect."

"Then why are you frowning?"

"I'm not frowning. I'm…" Castle peered into the depths of his cup then looked up at her, "savoring."

She arched a brow, asking dryly, "You want some nutmeg in it?"

"I really don't," he said with a definite shake of his head.

"How about some honey?"

"Honey? In coffee?"

"Trust me," she said, reaching for the little art deco honey pot that sat in the middle of her table in a condiment basket. She tipped it towards his coffee and, at his reluctant expression, pointed out: "Hey, I ate your s'morlet."

"Alright," he relented, scooting his coffee across the table toward her. "Honey me then, honey."

Beckett poured a small amount in then watched him stir and sip. "Now how is it?"

"Actually I like it," he murmured, head bobbing in approval.

"You're not just saying that?"

"Why would I lie about honey in my coffee?"

She tipped some honey into her own coffee. "And now we have our own quirky coffee ritual."

Castle shot her a slightly affronted look as she settled in her usual seat. "I bring you your favorite coffee every morning, rain, hail or shine, for five full years but you put honey in mine once and _now_ we have a coffee ritual?"

"So I've been thinking," Beckett began, leaning back in her chair and cradling her coffee in both hands. "And tell me if this is out of line."

Castle tilted his head in curiosity, going with the swift change of topic. "Okay."

"I have some buddies in Missing Persons," she went on, eyes fixed on his face to gauge his reaction. "I was thinking maybe we could put out some feelers, get a line on your dad, see what turns up." She paused, took half a breath. "What do you think?"

"I've already been down that track," Castle told her, taking a sip of coffee.

"You have?"

"A few years ago," he nodded, gaze lowered to his cup. "I had some people look into it. And when I say "people", I mean—"

"I know. _People_. You've got them everywhere."

"Never told mother or Alexis, of course. I thought if nothing came of it then they never had to know and if something did…"

She was silent a moment. "So nothing turned up, I take it?"

He took another sip, gave a mouth shrug. "Nah. Nothing."

Beckett offered a rueful smile. "Sorry."

"You know, it's okay," he mused, frowning thoughtfully but lifting his gaze to hers. "It was never really the man I was missing, it was the experience of having a father for all those years. What it would have been like to ride on his back as a kid, go to a baseball game together, have someone teach me how to shave or pick up girls."

"Well, you seemed to figure that one out on your own."

"Only after lots of practise."

"We talkin' about shaving or picking up girls?"

"Both, actually."

Beckett couldn't help a smile but it faded quickly. She leaned forward in her chair, voice soft as she asked, "Why didn't you ever tell me any of this? I mean, after all we've been through with my mom's case—"

"But that's why," he interrupted gently. "You lost someone you loved. It's not the same as never having something. It just seemed…insignificant in comparison."

"It's not insignificant, Castle." She reached for his hand, clasped it across the table. "And I'm glad you told me."

He studied their linked hands for a moment before meeting her eyes again. "Mention it your friends," he said eventually, tone light. "If you think they might come up with something."

"You never know." She squeezed his hand, rubbed his thumb with her own. "We New York City cops may not have the fanciest toys or the slickest cars but we know how to get the job done."

He chuckled under his breath. "Oh, I've seen that for myself."

"Speaking of which…—" Beckett glanced at her father's wristwatch then rose, downing the last of her coffee as she headed to the sink. "By the way," she added as she gathered her bag and a few files from the counter, "my dad called. He's got tickets to the game this weekend." She turned to Castle who'd trailed her to the sink with his unfinished coffee. She quirked a brow at him. "Wanna come? I'll buy you a hotdog."

Castle dumped the last of his coffee and nodded once. "I'm in."

"Good." Beckett moved to the door, throwing him his jacket before grabbing her own.

Castle caught it, donned it. Then asked falteringly, "So exactly what game are we talkin' about?"

She laughed, struggling with her load and her jacket. "Baseball, Castle."

"Right," he nodded, stepping up to help her.

"The Mets," she added, flicking her hair out from under the collar.

"Cool." He patted her jacket into place, lifted her bag's strap onto her shoulder. "And you'll explain the rules to me beforehand?"

"In detail," she assured him with a smile. "And if New York wins, it's my dad's shout."

"Awesome." Castle opened the door and held it for her. "And if they don't?"

"Then," Beckett replied as she strode past him and out the door, "I will be expecting post-game sympathy sex to make up for our boys' failure."

Castle flicked the lock and followed her out. "I think baseball is my new favorite sport."

-x-

"Hey, honey?" Castle called from the kitchen.

"You talkin' to me?" Beckett called back from the bedroom.

She heard a knock at her door and glanced about for the nearest piece of clothing. Happily, it was the shirt Castle had been wearing earlier. It still held some of his body heat and smelled of his cologne. She slipped it on and scrambled off the bed.

"What was the name of the team that won?" he asked, standing at the stove in just his boxers. "Cos I'm a big fan now and I wanna buy a hat."

Beckett tossed him a smile as she passed him on her way to answer the door. "Not to dampen your sporting spirit, Castle, but you were totally getting laid, win or lose." She opened the door to a pimply fellow with a large box whose expression told her he'd just overheard every word she'd said. "Hi," she greeted, somewhat sheepishly.

"Hi," he returned and offered her a gadget to sign. "Sign here please."

She signed the screen and accepted the package, rolling her eyes at the delivery boy's smirk as he scuttled away.

"What is it?" Castle asked when she returned to the kitchen with the box.

"Package," she muttered, reading the details scrawled in one corner, "from Meredith."

He winced but drew closer. "Want me to call the bomb squad?"

Abandoning the Pasta Carbonara he'd been preparing, Castle wrapped his arms around her from behind as she placed the package on the counter and began to open it. On lifting the lid, the first thing Beckett saw was a small white card sitting on top of a mound of paper padding. Written on it in a free, flamboyant hand was a succinct message:

_To Kate, _

_Don't be a fool like me. _

_Never let him go. _

_M x._

Chin planted on her shoulder, Castle gave a small nod. "Sage advice."

"That I intend on taking," she added, setting the card aside.

Underneath it and the masses of tissue paper was a smaller box, printed with a delicate _Made in France_ crest. Inside was a white ceramic shaker with a stainless steel plaque reading: "Nutmeg". Beckett handed it to Castle who examined it briefly then put it aside. The final item his ex-wife had included was an apron. White, with a big red kiss on its chest. And a simple directive. _Kiss the Cook_.

"Pretty sure _this_…" she turned to Castle, lifting the apron over his head, "is for you."

"Not many men can pull off a look like this," he said, fastening the ties round his body then smoothing the material down his chest.

Beckett gave him an appraising look, "Not any, I'd say," then treated his lips a playful peck.

"Now _that_—" he noted as he backed towards the stove, "is a look I'm familiar with."

"What look?" she asked, head cocked.

"That look." He retrieved his wooden spoon and waved it at her. "_Your_," he tipped his head to one side and pursed his lips in imitation, "_look_."

Beckett leant back against the counter, legs and arms crossed. "I don't do that. When do I do that?"

"You do it when I make you feel…." Castle stirred his sauce, peering over his shoulder at her with a saucy smirk, "_uncomfortable._"

"And why would I feel uncomfortable?" she asked coolly.

"Ah, Kate, Kate, Kate…" He turned to the kitchen table, chopping a few extra mushrooms and throwing them in the sauce with a flourish. "It's a well-known fact that a man in the kitchen…_cooking_. Handling," he picked up a clutch of herbs and stroked them, "sensual ingredients with his…bare, manly hands. Preparing something," he lowered his voice several octaves and glowered at her, "_tasty_. Most women see this as—"

"Emasculating?" she suggested, eyes twinkling.

"Sexy," he corrected, dipping his finger in the cream and sucking it. "_Very_…sexy…"

"Really?" Beckett inched closer, examining the leftover ingredients strewn across her kitchen table. "I've never heard of that before."

"Oh yes," Castle went on, doing his very best to seduce her with his words. "Some women may find themselves completely overwhelmed with arousal at the sight of a handsome, strapping man barefoot in the kitchen." He glanced down at himself. "Wearing an undersized novelty apron."

"Well, what can I say?" she sighed, leaning against the table, one hand propped on her hip. "You've finally discovered my secret apron fetish."

"That only took five years," he mumbled before lunging towards the stove, scooping some sauce and offering the spoon to her. "Here. Taste. See if this does anything to further that fetish."

Beckett did, licking her lips. "Mm. Good. _Really_ good."

"Right?" he nodded enthusiastically, "How do you like me now? Huh?"

Her mouth lifted in one corner but her eyes fell away. "Oh, I think it goes way beyond _like_, Castle."

Slowly, he set the spoon down then drew her against him, knotting his hands at the curve of her back. "What would you call it then?"

"I…" Her mouth worked wordlessly for a moment. She ran a palm up his bare arm then down his chest to cover the giant red kiss.

Castle leaned closer, sliding his cheek against hers and whispering in her ear, "Come on, Kate. You can do it. I believe in you."

She huffed and hit his shoulder. "Zip it, smartass."

He pulled back, frowning. "Not exactly the phrase I was hoping for."

"It's called love," she told him finally, simple and direct. "I love you."

Castle nodded, "There it is." And gave her an encouraging wink, "Knew you could do it."

"Even when you're flippant and annoying," she muttered, grinding her teeth and starting to walk away – only for him to pull her back again, "I love you."

Castle smiled and lowered his forehead to hers. "I know."

She raised a hand, curled it around his neck and drew him down to her. His open mouth met hers, his hands pulling her close while his body urged her to back up. Their mouths remained fused as he lifted her easily onto the counter, as he stepped between her legs, as her limbs encircled his body.

"Castle…" she gasped as his mouth left hers and trailed down her straining neck.

"What?" he muttered, palms sliding up and down her sides, thumbs grazing her breasts.

"Apron," she breathed, tugging at the thick material between them.

He pulled her borrowed shirt to one side and attempted to eat her shoulder whole. "Wha' 'bout i'?"

She tugged harder, demanding impatiently, "Take it off, dammit."

Castle withdrew, eyes twinkling delightedly. "Kinky," he commented before divesting himself of the apron and dropping it to the floor.

Beckett pulled him back into her eager embrace with a smirk. "Just wait and see what I plan on doing with the nutmeg."

_END._


End file.
